


The Girl With Candy Kisses

by pastelPLUNDER



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Angst, Drug Use, F/M, High School AU, Hurt Noodle, Hurt/Comfort, Vulnerable Noodle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 20:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12515980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelPLUNDER/pseuds/pastelPLUNDER
Summary: Stu thinks they're meant to be together.Noodle is just barely holding it together.





	The Girl With Candy Kisses

It was the third time this week that I was running late for school.

It’d always been a problem for me, but these past few days had seemed to get worse and worse. There is a specific problem that’s causing it but right now that’s not the issue. The issue is finding a clean shirt and running out the door.

I trip no more than two times on the way out of the bedroom, I really should pick up, and hobble down the stairs. The two story house is usually quiet at 7 am but I can hear mom in the other room. It’s just the quiet noise of a bottle pouring but it’s enough. I smile at her through the fluorescent lighting in the kitchen and am met with a sloppy grin. Already drunk, go figure. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and I’m quickly on my way out.

 

The way to school is easy and familiar. It’s a mile off and the sidewalk is cracked and overgrown, but the way always serves as a chance for me to clear my head. Dad used to offer me rides in the mornings but I’ve always found this is the easiest way for me to wake up and be ready for school. It’s become tradition at this point and he forgets all about whatever weird father-son bonding he’s trying to get going on.

This morning is particularly cold and I curse myself for not bringing a jacket. A clean shirt is definitely not the only thing I need to get through the day apparently. Jogging should help warm me up and get me out of the cold faster so I go with that. 

Clayton High is the typical American high school, complete with bullies, giggling girls, and a jock squad, the jock squad sucks apparently but that seems like par for the course. You’ve got your cliques, your freaks, and your outcasts, people like me that don’t have anyone in particular that they hang out with. Except Russel, I’ve got is Russel and the corners of classrooms. That’s fine, but a little part of me wishes I’d be noticed for something.

I’m not the only late arrival and I’m not the only one worried about getting to class on time. I am, however, the only one hustling towards the smaller school building to the side, it’s used to house a few dusty, unenthusiastic classrooms and a lot of storage space, and it happens to be where my first period math is. It’s about as long as the hallways in the school are but there’s only one corridor and no bathrooms. The walls are more bare than in the school itself, with only a few posters and a few flyers for school fundraisers up. Old, cartoonish drawings of the animal and human cell are printed on, perhaps they were one day vibrant but now they just look like they survived a dust storm of some kind. Everyone says the place is haunted, some kid named Del that I don’t think is real, and to add to the illusion there’s always a light out.

The walls are dark blue with white plastic halfway up. It peels and is broken in some sections but it’s by no means disgusting or some kind of health code violation. A section of the hall is completely dark from the broken light fixture, bathing an area in a thin veil of darkness that’s not helped by the phenomenally dim lighting from the bulbs that actually still work. No matter, I can still see Noodle leaning against the wall.

It’s just the two of us in the hall and my brisk walk slows to more of a crawl, her curious gaze captures me and I’m struck with the fact that we’ve never actually talked before. So why is she looking at me like that? Maybe I should say something. We’re not friends but we have enough classes together so that I don’t think it’d be weird to say hi.

She’s got her hair up in a loose bun today and is wearing a pink fuzzy skirt. She’s actually been smart when she chose her outfit today because she’s got on a black and white turtleneck sweater that looks warm (I feel vaguely jealous). There’s some kind of silver on her boots that glints but it’s really too dark to make out any real details. She looks nice, maybe I should tell her that. Girls like that.

I open my mouth to speak and she cuts me off, “Can I kiss you?”

My mouth snaps closed with a click.

A thousand or more responses flash through my mind and I really can’t pull out a single one. I think I nod jerkily but it maybe doesn’t matter because she’s already walking towards me. Her hips don’t sway but her arms do. She walks carefully and lightly like she’s trying to not be heard and her eyes bore into mine. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever really seen them because they’re the darkest brown I can imagine and they’ve got the brightest flecks of gold and I definitely haven’t because I most definitely would’ve remembered them and it’s a damn miracle that I’ve even managed to notice these things because she’s like three feet away now and oh god

The scent of some weird bubbly strawberry perfume hits me first and her strawberry lips hit me second. It’s chaste at first until she slowly opens my mouth with pouty lips and pokes her tongue next to mine. It startles me at first and I lurch forward, awkwardly grabbing her shoulders with my hands but I can’t dwell on the awkwardness of that move because jesus christ

Her entire mouth tastes sweet and tangy, she must’ve just been eating something because otherwise she’s an angel to taste this good. I slot my lips against hers and thrust my tongue against hers, taking control of the wonderful situation until she finally ebbs away. Her lips close slowly once more before she gently pulls away, leaving me with my tongue out of my mouth like a panting dog. 

Her eyes are bright and she’s got on some kind of pink lipgloss that’s definitely on my own. It’s smeared a bit and is endlessly endearing but she’s already slipped out of my arms and into a classroom door to the left of us. She doesn’t look back once as she walks and her hands are tucked into her back pocket.

My lips still taste sweet when I’m standing there five minutes later.

 

My cheeks are still burning two hours later. I had completely drifted throughout my math class, drooled through PE and I feel like I’ve finally got a bit of myself together in English. What kind of a girl did that?

My blush refired. A pretty girl. Noodle was way out of my league, way too pretty to be with the kid with the fucked up eyes and the remedial classes. I don’t know much about her, but I do know she’d been called the school’s new protege when she first came in. Smarts and looks?! What’s she doing with a guy like me?

Maybe she’s looking for a new kind of guy. Not all of the boys in the higher classes are all that nice, maybe she’s noticed me for being different. I like to think of myself as a good person and maybe I’m finally getting some recognition for that! I may not be smart, but I’m nice. I’d definitely treat her right. I could pamper her and she could sit with me and we could be happy together. I’d treat her better than anyone else, I’d make sure of it. Maybe that’s why she kissed me!

It’s all clouds and daisies for awhile after that brilliant thought but thinking back on it now I feel kind of shitty. The girl wasn’t suppose to make the first move, was she? And I didn’t even say anything! There she goes and makes such a bold move and I don’t even have the gall to say anything about it or ask for her number! Obviously, this has to be fixed. The class is still talking about To Kill a Mockingbird or something, but my time is much better spent planning what I’m going to say when I find Noodle.

I don’t see her for the rest of the day.

 

The weather man had said it would snow the next day but I wake up 30 minutes earlier than normal and all there’s only a thin frost on the ground. The air is crisp and icy, the kind of thing that burns when you inhale and makes a cloud when you release. It felt like you could spill water on the ground and it’d freeze before it hit the pavement. So, I accepted a ride from my dad, I can’t be expected to traverse out into the cold world on my own, can I? That and I wanted to get to the school early.

There are some issues. Was Noodle being out of class late a fluke or a regular occurrence? Did she always hang out in that hall or was she just skipping class and this is how it turned out? I really should’ve gotten that number…

I arrive fifteen minutes before school starts and crud I should’ve come earlier. I don’t even know where to begin. I spent five minutes walking around the halls, looking for Noodle and the rest of the time in the small building. I skip first period waiting there, but I never saw her go to class. The hall light was still out and I waited in that patch of darkness like she had, it seemed poetic. I missed a little bit of second too, hoping to see her come out. I never really did. 

I ditched Russ at lunch to go looking for her, even though I don’t actually know if we’ve got the same lunch. 

We do!

After spending a good chunk of the day skiving off work to find her, she’s tucked into a corner of the library room, crayons and markers spread out around her. She’s not drawing a picture but she is writing an English essay, which seems nice. I have the crazy thought that maybe she’s just been there all day, she looks settled enough, but shake my head to dismiss it. Why exactly would she just stay here in an empty room by herself? I advance too quickly and probably stand too close. Every move I make is filled with hesitation and she’s looked up so she can surely see but her looking at me just makes it worse because oh my god.

She’s got her hair in pigtails today and has some kind of bushy flower headband. Her Nirvana shirt is too big for her and goes down mid thigh, she must be wearing shorts because I can’t see pants. Her face is glowing in that way that girls do and her eyes are lined in some kind of glittery ink. Her eyes are shiny again and her face seems curious. Well, who wouldn’t be curious about a boy that came out of nowhere and pulled a chair out so hard he knocked down a display?

She’s so cute I may die.

“HEY!” My voice cracks in the middle of a three letter word and I immediately clear it, “How are you?” I’d thought over my plan and figured I should work up to the whole kiss thing. Small talk shows I’m friendly, interested and not intimidating!

“Good.” Noodle turns down and begins writing on her essay. She switches out a red marker for a purple one and I briefly wonder what teacher is okay with any of this.

“Cool!” I attempt to sound enthused, “How was your day?”

“Good.”

“Anything cool happen?” I try to find questions that would provoke more than a one word response. Admittedly, I’m doing a shitty job.

“No.”

“Oh.” She draws a cat in the middle of a paragraph, seriously, what the fuck? “OH! You have Mr. Bellverse’s PE class, right?”

“Yes.” She shoots me a wary glance but just as soon looks down to continue colouring.

“Hey, so like, he’s a real slave driver, huh?” She stares at me, “Kinda messed up that we need to do PE in the first place, right? I mean, what’s that got to do with getting ready for the outside world.” She still doesn’t react, “You know the only reason it’s in the school is because of some war requirements, right? How messed up is that?”

“So are you going to do something?” The first thing she’s said to me today and it’s this. My stomach plummets, “Are you going to sit here and complain to me or are you going to actually take an action?” Her voice has an accusatory edge and maybe I’ve been annoying her, now that I think about it.

“Um-”

“Because if you’re not going to do that, and are instead going to trap me in a never ending conversation with circular complaining, I think I’d rather not. So will you take action or just whine about the current situation without offering a solution?”

… “Well-”

She gets up.

 

Okay, so she’s a little less used to people talking to her than me, which is fine. No big deal. To be honest, maybe small talk and run of the mill questions aren’t the best way to talk to girls as wonderful as Noodle. Obviously, we need a better way to connect. A more lively atmosphere if you will. The perfect place pops up just two days later.

Tony McCloud’s party is this weekend. Tony’s known for being the guy with the best parties, and there’s a lot of theories as to why. The one that seems the most likely to me is that Tony sucks. Mainly cuz Tony sucks. I think people first started showing up because they just wanted to steal his booze and it turned out he had a DJ and that was kinda lit so, here we are. With Tony’s party monster reputation.

Noodle didn’t exactly have a reputation for going to big parties and going crazy, she had more of a reputation for going wherever she felt like and whenever she felt like it. Just so happens that this is where she wanted to be, according to some girls sitting in front of me in sixth period.

So, here I was, clad in my favorite Hawaiian shirt, unbuttoned for maximum flirtation, and some tight jeans my mom bought me. I’m not 100% sure if she knows I’m here, I told her but she also had to go to bed at 3 in the afternoon. It’s really up in the air. It doesn’t matter.

I’m three minutes in and also very overwhelmed. Everyone’s too close and the only light source is coming from some flashing neon in the center of the room. I’m being ignored by everyone in the room, I don’t really know anyone in here and tucked myself into a corner. I try to keep an eye on the door but it’s wide open and people come in in droves. I’m on a rising panic and the only thing keeping me grounded is the condensation on the bottle in my hand, half my head is focused on not letting it slip out of my hand.

The air smells like sweat and bad decisions, a mix of all the things a teacher tells you not to do. The scent of sex peeks out from the upstairs and someone’s smoking weed outside. Three out of five people smell like cigarette smoke in the house though. Another girl bumps me on her way to the kitchen and some of her wakeup wipes off on my shirt, a brown smudge on the fabric, she’s the third. Maybe I should just leave. 

This entire party isn’t my scene and I can just try and see her again at school, right? But maybe it’d be good for her to know that I can go out and party just like everyone else? 

“You look stressed.” A nasally voice to my left.

I jump a little and turn to see a boy an entire head smaller than me. He seems to be about my age and his messy, brown shag of a hairstyle screams unwashed teenager, it’s slicked back and it doesn’t help it look any less like a wet mop so try again. His teeth are crooked and his skin is almost tinged yellow. His eyes are dark, dark and almost pink in color. He snorts and yeah, that’s disgusting. 

“‘M not stressed,” I immediately get defensive, I really don’t need this guy here trying to ‘relax’ me or whatever. I turn my head back to the door and try to make it look like I’m waiting for someone, checking my phone like I’m waiting for a text.

“Yup,” He hasn’t left and his tongue clicks, “Definitely stressed. You’re all fidgety.”

“Not fidgety!” Did I move too much? “Just waiting on someone.”

“Who?” He leans against the wall and his gaze lowers to my collar. Is there something on my shirt?

“My girlfriend,” It’s a lie but it’s the best one we can think of at the time. Plus, it may someday stray onto the side of the truth.

“Ooh!” The man trills and looks infinitely more delighted, “Who’s the lucky lady?”

I pause, “I’m not telling.”

“Cuz she’s not real.” He slumps back against the wall and nods understandably.

Well, that just does it, “Noodle Watashiwa!” I blurt it out and smirk in triumph when he jumps. And frown when he smirks.

“Oh! You must’ve missed her. She’s right upstairs.” He jerks his head in the direction of the stairs, they’re filthy and littered with bottles as well as one puddle of vomit. I honestly can’t imagine Noodle anywhere near those stairs. “Come on.”

I narrow my eyes at him and shift slightly. I glance towards the door, the one I hadn’t seen Noodle come into all night but also the door I hadn’t been able to watch all night. If this guy knew Noodle he probably also knew I wasn’t really her boyfriend. Hell, if Noodle was up there and I’m even considering going up, he probably knows I’m not her boyfriend, since he can guess I don’t have her number.

“Oh yeah,” I nod unconvincingly and he replicates the motion, “She probably didn’t see my text. Can you show me where she is?” Perhaps we’ll just both play dumb and ride this ruse straight to Hell. Or maybe he’s just trying to get me alone to beat me up. Or I’ll end the night having given my first black eye. Or I’ll find Noodle. Eyeing the stairs again, the night is full of possibility.

He grins and it’s all fuzzy teeth. Insists on taking my sweaty hand in his and leading me up the stairs like I’m a child. Maybe he can just sense how out of water I am. It seems likely at this point.

The upstairs is significantly less crowded than the downstairs, but we still have to step over two girls kissing on the shag carpeting and I don’t like the look he shoots them either. I try to hurry him along and we enter the second door on the left.

The room is beige and lit by overhead lighting. There’s a gaggle of people in there and of them Noodle. The sweaty guy I came up with takes a large step into the room and turns to smirk at her, looking over his shoulder to wiggle his eyebrows at me. The variety of characters in this room is unimpressive, damn near blending into the white walls with their unoriginality. The majority in large, dark hoodies and shadowed eyes. The one “outlier”, outside of Noodle that is, is a tall man in the corner on a couch, his skin more green than yellow and with a fag in between his teeth. He doesn’t look high but he’s playing with a bit of tubing and there’s a fresh puncture wound on his arm so he must be. He’s not one of the droves staring at Noodle, instead black rimmed eyes (is that eyeliner?) stare at me curiously before his teeth stretch out into a wicked smile and he flips the long bangs out of his eyes. An unpleasant shiver runs down my spine and I quickly return my attention to Noodle.

The small girl is snorting coke like she’s been doing it since she came out of the womb and one of the boys is holding her long hair back like he’s a man on a mission and just grateful to be there. She’s also wearing an oversized hoodie but with her it’s a “look” and the pastel blue highlights the purple undertones of her silky locks. She’s gorgeous even when she’s high.

I open and shut my mouth, unable to find the words I want to say. This is too out of left field and I’m left gawking after her as she stands up, a little sway in her step, and plops herself down next to the scary man in the corner. The rest of the group keeps their distance from the two and it’s clear it has nothing to do with her and everything to do with him, judging by the hungry looks sent their way. He snorts when she giggles wildly and slings an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close into his chest. My heart cracks and a hot flame of jealousy burns in the back of my throat.

I quickly turn into the corner, snappishly dismissing my guide and step next to an empty bookshelf in the corner. 

I am quiet as I watch the two and stay for upwards of an hour, making sure that nothing untoward happens with the man I do not trust. But time passes and the only thing that happens is talking and laughing, the tall man angrily glaring at anyone else that gets too close or stares at her too long. More of a protective type than I assumed, I quietly leave the room and slip out of the house, leaving behind half drunk teens and completely blitzed college students, pissing on the lawn and in Mrs. McCloud’s rhododendrons.

This was a dumb idea.

 

“Hey, Russ?” A grunt answers and I twitch my thumbs together, “Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

This finally prompts Russel to look up from the thick book he had been studying. Upon my further inspection, I notice it’s a book on old lore from medieval times with a scribbly spirit on the front. What could he want with that? “Why’re you asking me that, 2d?” His voice is a deep bass like always, and like always it does wonders for my nerves.

“Well, y’know…” I shrug my shoulders, “There’s this girl I like.”

Russ stares at me for a moment before a smile spreads across his usually grim face. He slowly closes his book and slides a marker in, never once breaking eye contact, his white eyes on my black, “You got a crush?”

I feel my face flush, “Yeah? So?”

“It’s about time!” He leans over and thumps me on the back in that way that he knows is way too hard and I jerk forward, my ribs cutting into the table, “Man, I’ve known you since, what, second grade? You’ve never tried to ask a girl out!” My ears burn in shame and I dart a quick glance around the library. The place was mostly empty after school, with the loan Mrs. Pibb scanning books to return to the high, colourful shelves around us.

What Russ said was true. Every girl had seemed like some ethereal creature, far beyond my grasp. Even thinking about talking to one had me all to aware of my gangly limbs and sunken eyes, hair an offensive shade of blue and usually red nose. Noodle was no less intimidating but goddamn it…

“This one may like me though!”

Russel kept grinning and shakes his head, “So, what do you need to know?”

“Well,” I bite my lip and revisit the list in my head, “She’s kind of popular but approachable. She’s really cute and always wears the nicest things, so I figure she may be rich too?” She hadn’t really come across as well off but nothing she wore seemed cheap either, “She’s just...way out of my league. What do I do?” I leave out the part of the kiss and the party. It didn’t seem like behavior Russel would typically approve of and I kind of desperately need advice. 

“High class girl, huh? Okay, so here’s what you do: first you gotta separate her from her friends,” Easy enough, she didn’t really run in crowds, “You gotta get her on her own so you seem serious, you don’t need an audience for this. Two, you need a plan. Tell her where you’re going and what you had in mind but give her the option to change plans, make it seem like you know how to take care of her but you’re always willing to listen. Third, pay for everything. It doesn’t have to be all the time but it does have to be the first time, money ain’t nothing when she’s with ya, ya dig?” I nod eagerly, “Lastly, have some kind of idea what you’re going to say during the date. A VAGUE idea, 2d, I know how you over think things.” Russel shoots me a look and I’m brought back to painful elementary school memories of trying to befriend Russel by listing all the baseball players in Brooklyn. I thought it had been a terrific approach to befriending the accented kid in the corner, he had called me a little bitch though and given me his pudding cup.

“Got it!” Russel was as always a helpful friend, “She won’t know what hit her!”

“Don’t talk like that, D,” I get up to go but Russ raises a hand to stop me, a rush in his movements, “Wait, I totally forgot. Who is she?” The familiar twinkle of a loving Russ is in his eye and now I’ve obviously got to tell him.

“Oh, that foreign exchange student, Noodle,” A grin spreads over my face at the name, “She kissed me in the hall!”

A change falls over Russel’s features. His face closes off and his back is straighter. Two tells for Russel, good ways to know he’s lying or guilty.

I immediately feel nervous, “What?” It’s never good when Russel looks like this.

“Man, I don’t know how to tell ya,” He scratches the back of his neck and his eyes return to the tomb on the desk, “She kissed me too.” Pity fills his face but I hardly notice.

“What?” I slump back in my seat and feel the world collapse on my shoulders.

“Yeah, it was like two weeks ago. I heard she does that a lot.” His eyes raise to meet mine. For the first time I’m struck by the fact that they’re white and I can’t remember when they got to be that way. A totally unprovoked thought and it does nothing to startle the shock from my system, “Maybe it doesn’t mean as much as you thought it did, D.”

So, she doesn’t like me. She’s just like that. She just toys with people's emotions and makes boys fall in love and leaves them there to snort cocaine with creeps in the upstairs bedroom of Tony McCloud’s parents house. So she’s just a Japanese, rich, whore who could care less about anyone and would rather kiss my hulking mass of a best friend before she kisses stupid, little, ugly, awkward, annoying-

“Are you okay, Stu?” I push past his hand and storm out of the library.

 

The next day I’m at school on time and in class five minutes before the bell rings. I manage to stay for ten minutes before getting up and leaving in the middle of Mr. Poll’s lecture on right triangles or whatever. There’s a small Japanese girl in the dark part of the hall leaning on the wall and tapping on her phone. Her hair falls in a thick curtain around her face, only broken by thick red glasses she has perched on her button nose. Her nails are a hot pink and the winter coat that reaches her knees is navy green and does an excellent job of obscuring the rest of her. She looks small and I stalk up to her.

“I’m going to kiss you again.” She looks up and her eyes widen.

Noodle hesitates and looks into my face before giving me a jerky nod. I engulf her mouth in mine.

 

The next two weeks are a mess. 

Kissing the prettiest girl in the school in the gym, the cafeteria, the closet, the library, the classrooms is great. To sum up, I’m kissing the prettiest girl in the school in the school. And only in the school.

It’s usually me, except for the first time, initiating the kissing and it’s usually me, except for the first time, who breaks it off. Outside of this we don’t talk. I don’t attempt it and she doesn’t either. I think it’s because she doesn’t care. And I’m fine with that at first.

I think you learn a lot about someone from kissing them. Not what they like, not what they’re comfortable with and not exactly how much they like you. I mean, I guess you could learn that but you can also learn how much life, how much passion is in them. With Noodle, the answer is a resounding zero. 

She moves robotically, always following my lead and she never lays a hand on me. I was fine with that too at first. I’m not anymore

I think I’m a bad person.

Noodle came into our school a year ago. Noodle has no friends. Noodle does drugs. Noodle kisses strangers. Noodle kisses anyone that asks her to. Noodle never says no. The only thing Noodle has is some guy that’s using her to feel good. I’m the guy, so I’m a bad person.

She’s got signs of being broken all over her and I know a little thing about girls that need help.

These realizations came to me a week and a half in, when Noodle showed up to school high as a kite and sad. I didn’t do anything. That also makes me a bad person.

In the period following, the feeling has grown until it builds up like a layer of filth on my skin. Every press of lips reminds me of her empty eyes. Every stroke of hand shows me a stranger holding back her hair. Every yes makes me think of the no she’d rather be giving. 

So, I’m a bad person. What am I going to do about it?

 

The answer is follow her. 

When the last bell rings and everyone’s heading to buses and cars, I follow her. She walks for ten minutes on a sidewalk a few feet behind a group of friends that she doesn’t seem to actually know. After a while she turns into a thick forest off the side of the road. It’s a random patch of wood in the middle of our town, just another plot of land that will someday soon be torn down and have a shopping center in it’s place.

The wood is high now though, and even this late in the day the air is foggy. Pine trees are covered in covered in thick sap and the floor is covered in a thicker layer of leaves and needles. She climbs deftly over fallen trunks and hops over puddles as if she were as well acquainted with the forest as a native deer. There is an effortless grace in her movements and with the serene setting I could almost guess that she was happy.

I follow a lot more clumsily, ducking behind trees and snapping twigs. Her headphones are on with the music loud enough to hear though, so I figure she hasn’t noticed. She rests finally on a big sawed off stump. The air is full of humidity and the wood looks slick ten feet away. She deems it just fine for crying though.

There was never a concrete reason in my mind for why she may have turned into the forest. Smoking perhaps, more drugs. Just wrecking stuff. Some kind of Footloose-esque display of passion. Drinking. At the end of the day, I guess crying remains the best way to let loose all the injustices of the world though.

She covers her face with her hands and lets out shoulder wracking sobs, her voice entirely too tiny in the big forest, the world. She’s still wearing the shorts and the fuzzy t shirt she wore to school today, she must be freezing. 

I creep over.

“Noodle?” There’s no other way to break the ice.   
Her head jerks up and her eyes widen comically at me, filled with shock and fear, the first time I’ve seen them filled with anything in awhile.

“Stuart.” It’s released as a gasp and my name has never sounded more wretched. She hurriedly wipes at her face with bare hands, smearing mascara across her round cheeks.

“Are you okay?” I’m a fucking idiot.

She looks surprised at the question. And not in a I’m a dumbass way, “Fine.”

I tell her she clearly isn’t and her frown just furrows further in confusion. She finally replies after what seems to be deep consideration, “It doesn't matter.”

“If you’re not fine, it does matter.”

“No,” She seems to have gathered herself and shakes her head furiously, “It doesn’t.”

“Okay,” I take a careful seat on the stump next to her and prompt her to stand up for a moment, sliding my textbook under her bum so she doesn't get the little clothing she has on wet and sling my hoodie over her shoulders. It’s the least I can do, “So, what’s fine?”

She narrows her eyes, “I’m fine,” She huffs angrily, “See, this is one of those cyclical conversations I was telling you ab-”

“Okay,” I cut her off, “Why’re you crying then?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She turns away from me and looks straight ahead, though her fingers tighten on the warm fabric of my jacket.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” 

“You don’t care.” Noodle sniffs.

“I do!” I cry, I’m doing a terrible job, “I know I haven’t shown it well in the past-”

“Stuart, it’s fine,” She turns to me and her face is back to being as open and curious as ever, “I’m not accusing you of anything. Nobody cares.”

That makes me pause and shift for a moment, something about her statement just hitting my ear wrong, “Well, yeah, maybe some people don’t care about you-”

“No one cares about anyone. It’s fine.” She gives me a watery smile, “Can you leave? I have some things to work out.”

My mouth has opened in the middle of this statement and I snap it shut, “Noodle, people care about other people! That’s what makes you human!”

“No, they don’t.”

“Yes, they do!”

“No. They don’t.”

“Yes. They do!” I wonder if I’ll have to stay in these woods all night, just to refute her downright depressing claim. I decide in a heartbeat that I’d do it and more.

“NO.” Her face transforms in her sudden rage and maybe it’ll take more than the “cyclical” conversation we were having, “People don’t care about people, STU! Let me tell you a little about life,” I keep my mouth shut, “In Japan we have a way of doing things. You wanna know what that way is? We do things! We just do what we need to, Stu, what we’re told to do! That’s all that matters, as long as things get done you can do any damn thing you want! Nothing matters at the end of the day, nobody cares, just get your damn shit done!” She’s screaming at the end, pacing round and round the tree stump and I keep my eyes on her, “Nobody cares, Stu.”

It’s quiet for a moment except for the heavy breathing to the right of me.

“Noodle,” I say it quietly, “That’s not how anything works, that’s not how people work. Well, unshitty people,” I ammend reaching out to take her hand in mine. It’s become very quiet in the forest, grey light illuminating the trees and this feels like a special moment, a turning point, “Noodle, I don’t think that’s even how Japan works,” She stares at me apprehensively from the other side of the stump, our connected hands the only thing I feel is keeping her with me, “I care about you.”

…

There’s silence though I can see the leaves over her head fluttering.

“Why?” It’s a whimper when it does come out.

I can’t give her an answer immediately. She doesn't stick around to hear it, taking off through the forest a lot less beautifully than she came into it.

 

“Do people really care?”

It doesn’t matter when I came to school, it doesn’t even matter what she’s wearing. 

It matters that she sits next to me on a bench outside the building. It matters that she takes my hand quietly of her own volition. It matters that she hears my yes. 

But this matters the most

“I’d like to stop kissing you.”

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kay, so it's not exactly 2nu. 
> 
> The entire thing is basically Stu finds a girl he likes and disregard any warning signs of inner turmoil. Noodle has been raised in the cold and sterile environment of the Japanese Experiment and is very unused to people and feelings. She feels torn up inside as she was there since her teens. It ends with Stuart deciding that her emotional wellbeing is the most important thing and they establish a healthy friendship. 
> 
> My love for Russel shines through. 
> 
> Message me I love that.


End file.
